


The Big Cat and the Spider

by hotchoco195



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Jim has a thing for bad boys, John Isn't Gay, M/M, Murder Husbands, Origins, Questionable feelings, Sebastian is the baddest of them all, Sexual Content, mormor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 14:05:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotchoco195/pseuds/hotchoco195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Sebastian got his job and then a sort-of fuck buddy, pretty much at the same time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Big Cat and the Spider

 

Sebastian went straight from the airport to the pub. He dropped his duffel bag on the stool next to him, lit a cigarette and ordered the biggest bottle of scotch they had. _First off, I need a fuck – or a fight. Either will do._ He ran his eyes over the other patrons but they were mostly older blokes, playing pool or watching the races on the dismally small TV above the bar. He was pretty sure after a couple of drinks he could get a rise out of them but it wasn’t worth the effort. _No challenge here_. Sebastian didn’t mind getting into fights he knew he’d lose, so long as they were worth the beating. But picking a fight he knew he’d win easily was just sad. It was part of the reason he’d been discharged – he picked the wrong fight.

He had nowhere to stay yet. No chance in hell he’d ask his father and get that lecture: in fact, if he never saw the old man again it would be just fine with him. He had some money for a hostel and if he couldn’t find one there was always an alley near backwater dives like this where the local drunks could sleep it off. He’d find somewhere more permanent in the morning. There was a list in his bag of places he might get work, recommendations from men from his unit. Tomorrow Sebastian Moran would get on with his life and it would all be just fine, but tonight he was going to drink until he couldn’t move and mourn the premature end to his career.

*****

Jim’s always had a thing for bad boys. In his line of work he meets lots of them, bodyguards and musclemen and gun fighters with bad reputations and blood-stained knuckles. But they were all ordinary, easily overpowered, lacking brains or creativity or vision. The higher up the ranks they got, the colder and more reserved they became; the truly sadistic ones never charged for their services. So he had yet to find a suitable right-hand man when word came to him (as it always did, drifting up through the threads of his net) of a man who was an artist with a rifle.

It took Jim five minutes to break through the classified encryption on Sebastian Moran’s file and have his whole service history laid out before him. Son of an eminent lord, educated in the highest colleges of the land, shipped out to Central Asia and quickly rose to Colonel. A crack shot, a good leader, strategically minded and short-tempered. He had a dozen complaints against him for starting fights, a swiftly hushed-up discharge for something more sinister involving the squadron’s Major, and a small note at the bottom: _Experienced hunter. Nicknamed ‘Tiger’ Moran_. Jim leaned back and cracked his knuckles. _Someone with the patience to be a sniper and the recklessness to start fights with no regard for Army discipline? That’s worth a meet_.

*****

Sebastian lay like a statue on the roof of the old library. Across the road, two storeys down, he could just make out his mark at a desk near the window. Moran didn’t know anything more than his name, his face, and his expiration date – didn’t need to. He was just another target.

The blond waited, crosshairs settled over the guy’s face. He’d only get one shot so there was no point rushing it. He could stay there all day if he had to, for the perfect moment.

There was a noise behind him, a scuffing as someone climbed up the fire escape. Sebastian spun, rifle up and aimed at the dark head at the top of the ladder.

“Hi there!” the man beamed, “Jim Moriarty. Might I have a word?”

“Never heard of you. What do you want?”

Jim finished climbing up and jumped onto the roof lightly. “I thought it time we met.”

Sebastian sneered at the polished suit. “Really? I’m a touch busy at the moment, you’ll have to make an appointment with my people.”

Jim practically cooed. _So, the rumours are true. Accuracy_ and _attitude_. Moran was crouched by the rim of the roof, gun pointed squarely at Jim. He was in a tight black t-shirt and cargos, almost blandly military if not for the leather jacket flung over his rifle case. Jim took in that short blonde hair, the chiselled face, the very visible muscles and the silver dog tags and almost swooned. _Oh yes, you’re just Daddy’s style_.

“Your assignment? Mr Daniel Peterson, age forty-nine, investments trader?”

Sebastian felt a stab of shock but controlled it, the rifle tip not even quivering. “Maybe.”

“Doesn’t exist dear. The man sitting across the street from us works for me. I set him up and paid your employer to get rid of him, all so I could meet you.”

Moran considered this, biting his cheek. “If you can do something like that, why didn’t you just ask to see me?”

“Call it a test,” Jim nodded towards the window, “Or an audition.”

“An audition?”

“For a much better position than the one you’re currently in. I took a look at your address – very shady part of town. I’ll start you on six figures, if you’re as good as they say.”

“Why should I work for you? I know nothing about you except you’re shifty and you clearly don’t give a damn for my answer, throwing that money talk around.”

“Get used to it. I don’t share, but for the right second-in-command I could be very generous.”

Sebastian didn’t like it. He knew trouble, and this Jim fellow was all kinds of it. The mischievous, cocky glint in his dark eyes as he watched Sebastian with no fear of the gun was warning enough. Moran was tempted by the money, but he knew he’d probably have to work pretty hard to earn it, if Moriarty’s tight smile was anything to go by. At the end of the day though, what else did he have going on? Might be some fun in this.

“Fine.”

“Excellent! We’ll have to discuss your duties, obviously-”

“Give me a second.”

Sebastian turned on his knees, shouldered the rifle and took a deep breath. He squeezed the trigger and ‘Daniel Peterson’ jerked, falling forward over his desk.

Jim stared with raised brows as Moran calmly lowered the weapon and started dismantling it.

“Now, what sort of duties, boss?”

 _Oh I’m going to eat him up_.

*****

Sebastian quickly got used to his new job. From the very start it was like he didn’t need to prove his loyalty (probably a sign of Jim’s supreme confidence in his own judgement) and he was being flown across the world for the boss’ biggest jobs. Seb quickly understood the vastness of Jim’s reach, but he never saw anyone but the man himself. He hit his targets and large sums appeared in his bank account, and it was a damn sight better than the army.

If he noticed Jim’s...eccentricities, he knew better than to comment. The genius (and Sebastian happily conceded that within the first week) had a temper almost as devastating as his own, though it worked differently. Sebastian could get angry, letting it simmer under his skin until someone said the wrong thing. With Jim it was like a switch, a sudden snap brought on at any time, any place. There was no warm-up period, just sudden terrific rage and then back to the dead calm. Moran tried to pick his words carefully, preferring to say as little as possible rather than risk Jim flying off the handle.

He’d never seen a mind like Jim’s before. He’d met clever men when he served, but no one as impossibly, magnificently brilliant. Sebastian listened to his instructions keenly, carried them out and waited to see how the whole plan dropped into place. Before he knew it he’d moved into Jim’s flat to keep an eye on him and manage his underlings, and if it was an unusual situation it didn’t seem strange to Seb. He got used to living with his boss and fetching the groceries, and he appreciated Jim’s soft, odd sense of humour and the appreciative smile when Seb handed him his morning coffee. In short, they were as happy as could be.

*****

Jim found it was hard to maintain your idea of someone as a badass when they were sorting your laundry and bringing you breakfast. Sebastian quickly became his best lieutenant and housekeeper and first choice for the tough jobs, but he lost a little of that raw appeal Jim had felt when they met. Not to say he didn’t enjoy watching Moran walk around topless or working out on the lounge room floor, but it was stored away for later contemplation so Jim could focus on other things.

The only times Jim felt his restraint tested were when Sebastian came home from a job, smelling so faintly of gunpowder you’d miss it unless you knew it was there. Jim would stare at the fingers that had just ended a man’s life – at his command – and the warm, deep eyes that looked down the sight and have to stay firmly behind his desk until he calmed down again.

 

One night, after about six months of living together in which Jim surprised himself at separating business and pleasure, he sent Sebastian on a routine assassination only to be woken by a call at eleven.

“Seb?”

“It’s gone bad, boss. Cunts were waiting for me.”

Jim hissed. _Gorchenko. That rat bastard will be dead within the hour_. “The target?”

“I got ‘im, but not before they roughed me up some.”

“Where are you now?”

“Headed for the Kings Cross safe house. They were following me but I lost ‘em.”

“I will meet you there.”

Jim hung up and dressed one-handed while he texted several of his other agents. Normally he’d never do something as risky as go to a wounded employee, but this was his number two and he was burning with fury about the leak. He had to see the damage with his own eyes so he’d know exactly how much to make the culprits pay.

He didn’t call his driver, instead walking two blocks before getting in a taxi. The Kings Cross safehouse was dark when they pulled up, but he threw some cash at the cabbie and headed inside, sliding a hand into his pocket for his just-in-case gun. He unlocked the front door and punched in the alarm code, walking quietly towards the only visible light coming from the kitchen. Jim edged up to the door, weapon up, and spun around the frame as Sebastian cocked a pistol at him.

“Jim!” he lowered it quickly.

Moriarty scowled, placing his gun on the kitchen table so he could remove his coat. Sebastian had stripped off a dark jacket, his white singlet criss-crossed with red slashes. His hands were covered in blood as he held a towel to one particularly deep cut by his hips, a first-aid kit thrown open on the counter. He had a broken nose and a swollen eye that made Jim marvel how he managed to pull the trigger at all.

“You say they got to you _before_ you shot Martinez?” he rolled up his sleeves.

“Yeah. Swarmed into the apartment, like they knew I was coming.”

“How many?”

“Three.”

“And you still managed to get off the shot?”

Sebastian shrugged, wincing. “I forced ‘em all off me for a second and took it.”

“Amazing,” Jim rinsed his hands and grabbed a cloth, “Did you recognise them?”

“Nah, but if I saw them again I’d know. Cocksuckers.” He hissed as Jim started cleaning his wounds.

The mastermind worked patiently, cleaning each cut before he either stuck a plaster over or stitched it, taking his time with the nastiest. His hands were gentle and quick, but under the surface his nerves trembled with contained anger.

 

He finished up, noting that Sebastian hadn’t complained the whole time.

“Do you need anything for the pain?”

“I need a good drink to soothe my bruised ego, but other that I’ll live.”

“It’s not your fault. We were both ambushed.”

“I should have done better, not taken as many licks.”

“You achieved your objective and didn’t get killed. I’d say it was a job well done.”

Jim looked up as he secured the last bandage. Sebastian still had blood on his face from the less serious scrapes, and his eyes were wild and dark. _Aw_ , Jim thought, _Tiger wants to go on the hunt_.

“We’ll stay here tonight. I’ll see about a drink.”

He went to check the kitchen cupboards and Seb’s hand shot out, just barely grabbing his arm.

“Thanks, Jim. I fucked up and you still came to sort me out.”

“I said it wasn’t your fault. Don’t argue, Moran.”

“Yessir.”

Jim regarded his wounded soldier. He was leaning on the edge of the counter, hands gripping the laminate tightly as he glared fiercely at invisible enemies. He’d never been so adorably rough-looking. Jim backtracked until he was right in front of Sebastian. Mindful of his wounds, the Irishman leaned in carefully and kissed him.

 

Sebastian’s first thought of _What the fuck?_ was quickly taken over by the simultaneous _Where did that come from?_ and _Don’t stop._ He brought a hand up to cup the back of Jim’s head as the shorter man’s lips wrestled with his. He slid his other arm around Jim’s waist and tugged him closer, the consulting criminal’s hands flying forward to stop himself stumbling and colliding with one of Sebastian’s bruises. He flinched and Jim hurriedly pulled away.

“Sure you don’t want something nice and floaty for that?”

“I’ll be fine,” Seb panted slightly, “What did you do that for?”

“I wanted to. Isn’t that reason enough?”

Sebastian was forced to agree that with Jim, that was the most logical explanation.

“Why did you kiss me back if it was so unexpected?”

“Guess it seemed like a good idea.”

“Do you think your injuries can cope if we don’t stop?” Jim teased.

“S’long as you keep your hands to yourself we’ll be fine.”

“No promises.”

Sebastian lunged forward, grabbing Jim to him one-handed as he cleared the table with the other. He bent his boss back over the surface and Moriarty let him, revelling in the impulsiveness. Sebastian wriggled a hand between them and rubbed Jim’s crotch as their lips met. Jim made to clutch at his shoulders and Seb tutted, wriggling away.

“No hands.”

He undid Moriarty’s trousers and tugged them open, fingers sliding in around Jim’s hardening prick. He stroked firmly, bringing the man to an almost painfully aroused state.

“Get on with it, Sebby.”

“Sure? That’s not much in the way of foreplay.”

“I’ve had half a year’s worth. Now fuck me this instant or I’ll fire your arse.”

Moran smirked at the desperation in his boss’ voice but stepped back, turning Jim over until he was bent over the edge. Sebastian unbuttoned his pants and eased them down over his sore legs, resting a hand on Jim’s back as he licked his fingers.

 

Jim clutched at the tabletop as Seb worked one digit into him, already aching for more before it was halfway. He pushed back insistently but Sebastian wouldn’t be rushed. _It’s not every day you get to watch someone as formidable as Jim Moriarty squirm_. He wished more than ever he’d come out better in the attack, because as much as he was going to love this, it was going to hurt.

He slid in another finger, stretching Jim out patiently. Sebastian curled up and around his walls, seeking out the sweet spot. His nails brushed Jim’s prostate and the genius flung his head back with a groan. Sebastian spat in his hand and worked himself, slicking up his member with the faint trickle of his pre-cum as he sawed his fingers in and out of Jim. He bit his lip to control himself as Jim bucked and whined, trying to force more friction. His self-discipline was gone; that would have to be enough. Seb removed his fingers roughly and just as fast pressed his head against Jim’s entrance.

If sex actually could make your eyes pop out of your head, Jim thought it might be moments like this. Despite Sebastian’s preparations, he was feeling stretched and sore as the sniper shoved his way in. There was a satisfying fullness, and a slight tingle of pleasure, and a definite delicious feeling of being pinned down but overall the pain was taking up most of his attention. Jim hooked his fingers around the other edge of the table and held on as Moran fought all the way in.

Sebastian leaned forward until his mouth rested against Jim’s hair by his ear, the change in angle drawing a gasp from the criminal.

“How did you know I’d go for this?”

“I read your file. According to your unofficial discharge papers, you don’t have a problem fucking men or your superiors.”

Seb growled and slammed his hips against Jim’s thighs, drawing cries from them both. “There’s more to the story.”

“I believe you. Tell it some other time.”

Sebastian plunged into him, both hands curled around Jim’s hips as he rocked back and forth. Moriarty felt like all the breath had been pushed out of his lungs as he clung to the tabletop and pressed back against the movement, eyes closed blissfully as Sebastian grunted and moaned. The pain was gone, replaced with only the heat and width of Moran inside him and the matching feel against his back. Jim pressed his forehead against the wood and let his muscles go loose, Sebastian pounding into him over and over like a stampeding bull. It was the single least boring moment of his life.

*****

Sebastian learned Jim had a voracious sexual appetite and his new duty was sating it. Any time, didn’t matter – Jim ambushed him in the shower, the hallway, while making dinner. He was summoned to the boss’ bed most nights. They didn’t go on dates or anything trite like that, but Sebastian noticed a general warmth to Jim’s manner that hadn’t been there before. He spent more time with the assassin, made more jokes, did simple thoughtful things in between all the sex. Sebastian didn’t mind; Jim was smart and handsome and when he was in a good mood, he gave the best blow jobs Seb had ever had. He didn’t get caught up in the implications of the thing, just went along for the ride.

Jim let Sebastian be the domineering one in bed because he wasn’t anywhere else, and he understood his tiger needed to run free now and then. He loved watching Seb be the stony, silent professional and remember the roaring passion hidden underneath. He liked Moran best when he was naked and flattening Jim into the mattress with a growl; second best was when he was smoking lazily and his eyes got that look like he wanted to devour Jim.

He thought of his sniper fondly, but they certainly weren’t in love: yet within the space of a few months and thanks mostly to habit, they were pretty much a couple. Enough so that when Jim suggested his latest plan to mess with Sherlock, Sebastian cracked.

“Are you insane?”

“Come on Sebby, for me?” Jim pouted.

“No. I am not seducing John Watson just so you can get closer to Sherlock!”

“Well I can’t do it, he knows what I look like!” Moriarty pointed out, quite sensibly he thought.

“He’s not even gay!” Sebastian shook his hands in frustration.

Jim sneered. “Oh please. Do you consider yourself gay?”

“No.” He grumbled.

“And yet you fuck me ten times a week. I think Dr Watson’s supposed sexuality is the least difficult part of this mission.”

“How can you ask this?” Moran frowned deeply.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we live together, we’re not fucking anyone else...and you just wanna palm me off on Sherly’s flatmate with no consideration I might not be okay with that?”

Jim grimaced. “Oh, you’re not saying you have feelings for me Sebby?”

“I dunno! I mean, I’ve never really thought about it, but I’m not one of your cheap whores to be passed around Jim.”

“But you are mine, and you follow my orders. I wouldn’t trust anyone else with this.”

Sebastian snorted and grabbed his jacket. “Whatever.”

“Where are you going?”

“Out!”

He slammed the door behind him, leaving Jim glaring, mortified. No one had walked away from him in years and Sebastian Moran was not going to be the first.

 

Seb wasn’t sure where he was going. He wasn’t even sure why he was offended – it’s not like he and Jim were lovers, they just had sex. _If he asked me to seduce some random target to get them alone, I’d do it. Why is it different if he wants me to spy on Sherlock?_ But it was. The order made him feel dirty, like his feelings meant nothing and his prick was just another weapon for Jim to use. Maybe he did care about Jim. He’d been charged with his welfare for over a year now, lived with him, spent all their time together. Why was it so unreasonable to ask for some respect?

He walked until the cold penetrated his anger and he drew his jacket in closer. There was a pub at the end of the street and Sebastian headed in with the vague idea of getting very drunk and shagging some bird with Jim on speakerphone. _Yeah, cos that will prove you don’t care about him_. He walked up to the bar and ordered a scotch, glancing around. He spotted two men at a table by the wall and groaned. _Well fuck me dead. London’s a small place_. John was sitting with an older guy Sebastian sort of placed as working at the hospital, the two of them smiling over a beer. He shook his head. _This is the guy Jim wants me to sleep with? He’s that uptight look all over._ Still, he sat at the bar and sipped his drink, throwing a curious glance over now and then.

He’d been there fifteen minutes when the door opened and someone new walked in. Sebastian looked up out of habit and scowled.

“You followed me.”

“You left in the middle of a conversation, Sebastian. That’s not polite.”

He was in a more casual outfit than usual, with an absolutely ridiculous scarf and a coat over jeans. Moran rolled his head on his neck grumpily.

“It wasn’t a very polite conversation.”

Jim got the bartender’s attention. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

“He’s not staying.” Seb growled.

“Oh yes I am.”

“Fine, then I’m not.”

He stood and Jim’s eyes locked on his like a slap. “Sit down, Sebastian.”

The bartender gave them a confused look but poured the drink and walked away. Sebastian slid back onto his stool, jaw twitching.

“You’re forgetting yourself, Sebby. You work for me.”

“Yeah, and as your protector I advise you to leave. John Watson’s over by that wall, and he knows what you look like. So piss off.”

Jim looked over and smiled. “So he is. Ready to rethink that job, Sebby?”

Moran took another swig and met his gaze steadily. “And you’d be alright with that, hey? That’s what you want?”

“Of course.”

“You want me to go over there and chat up John ‘Fuzzy Jumper’ Watson and let him take me home?”

“That’s the plan.” Jim smirked.

“And you don’t mind if I fuck him, huh? If he fucks me? If I suck him off?”

Jim’s smile was strained but he nodded. “It would make my day.”

Sebastian watched him, waiting for a response, but when Jim just sat there patiently he nodded.

“Good.”

 

Seb slammed back the last of his drink, stole Jim’s and walked over to Watson’s table.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, but are you John Watson?”

The doctor looked up, surprised and clearly unable to place him. “Uh, yeah. Do I know you?”

“Colonel Sebastian Moran,” he offered his hand, “Or I should say ex-colonel.”

“Moran,” John shook thoughtfully, “I think I’ve heard of you.”

The sniper turned on his gruff charm. “All lies, I bet.”

“Well sit, please. It’s always good to see an old serviceman.”

Stamford sighed and stood. “I’m all in. I’ll leave you young bucks to it.”

“Oh, okay.” John said as Sebastian took Mike’s seat.

“Nice to meet you.” Moran gave a half-wave.

Stamford ambled out, leaving John’s focus back on Sebastian.

“So where did you serve?”

“India, mostly. I hear you were up in Afghanistan?”

“India...I have heard of you! You shot that bloody tiger!” John said excitedly.

Sebastian shrugged. “Yeah. My old man used to take me hunting in that country all the time. It wasn’t as big a deal as everyone made it out to be.”

“They say you followed it into the sewers. Braver than me, mate.”

Sebastian smirked and took out a cigarette. “Do you mind?”

“No, go ahead.”

“She was already wounded when I followed her in. Stupid thing to do really, but I came out alright.”

“Amazing.” John laughed.

“How long you been back in England then?” he asked, blowing a plume of smoke with as much devil-may-care as he could muster.

“Oh, awhile now. Took a shot to the shoulder.”

Sebastian winced sympathetically. “Nasty. Still, you didn’t think of going back?”

John shrugged. “I sort of fell in with someone here. Got wrapped up in civilian life, you know?”

“Yeah. Me, I can’t quite get used to it.”

John finished his drink with a slight intake of breath. “I know what you mean.”

“Let me buy you another?”

“Sure.”

 

Jim watched carefully from his place at the bar. He’d moved around slightly so a convenient pole shielded him from view, but he could see John and Sebastian alright. They were laughing like old friends, Seb’s face lit up as he described something, cigarette waving around as he illustrated with his hands. _How dare he be so goddamn attractive when I’m mad at him?_ John was chuckling and sipping his beer and looking like a happy puppy. Jim half-expected him to start panting. _Not gay my arse_.

He was certain Sebastian had the situation in hand, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Maybe he doubted his sniper would actually go through with it; maybe he didn’t trust John to put out on the first date. Whatever it was, he felt compelled to stay and watch. Seb was flashing him those big cheeky grins that always had Jim weak at the knees, and John did look a little dazzled. Moran reached out to grab his lighter and just for a second brushed John’s hand, and the startled look was enough to make Jim scream.

He waited for hours, holding his glass out for a refill and watching the pair of old soldiers get drunker and drunker. They were singing Army songs and clapping each other’s arms and if he didn’t leave, he was going to lose his mind. _Why? Why do I care if John touches Sebastian? Because he’s mine?_ But he’d told Sebastian to do this and not had a problem with it then. After all, he wasn’t letting the good doctor steal his best man – just borrow him for a night _. I am not jealous of some mediocre fashion-challenged closet case_. But as Sebastian leaned forward and muttered something in John’s ear, and the other blond’s eyes widened and then glazed over, Jim realised he was very much jealous. No one got to play with his things but him. Moran and John stood and headed towards the back door, and Jim only managed to wait about two minutes before he followed.

 

“I’ve uh, never done this before.” Watson mumbled as they stepped out into the alley. It was lonely and cold, just a short lane with a row of bins, but Moran was so close he was blocking out the wind.

“But you’ve been with girls, yeah? No different really.”

“Alright.”

Sebastian raised a huge scarred hand and rested it gently on John’s face, kissing him tentatively. Somewhere in the middle of his head and his groin John’s libido combined with the beer thick in his mouth and he kissed back, pushing Moran against the brick wall as he leaned into it. It was like kissing a girl, albeit one taller and less soft than usual, but the sensation was the same and he felt a jolt of desire for the handsome, battle-worn man with his tongue in his mouth.

John’s hands roamed up until his fingers caught in Seb’s hair and the other man tugged the doctor closer until they were squished together, legs interlocked. Sebastian slid his hands down over John’s arse and the doctor squeaked, breaking the kiss.

“Ah, not sure-”

“Okay, I get it, too fast.”

He kissed John again and Watson shrugged internally, kissing back. If they were going to take their time about this he might suggest going back to Baker Street, since he didn’t want to freeze in this alley all night. He was just about to ask when strong hands pulled him away from the colonel and he stumbled back in a heap.

“Dr Watson! So nice to see you, now run along home before I have you killed horribly.”

He blinked up at Jim, not sure he could believe his eyes. “Moriarty?”

“Just so! Now scram!”

John looked at Moran, not quite understanding. He wasn’t sure if he should be concerned for the other man’s safety or not. Jim sighed and turned around, ignoring him.

“Forget this job. I changed my mind.”

“Thought you didn’t care.” Moran drawled.

“I don’t. It’s just a stupid idea – a distraction from the real mission.”

“I dunno, you never pass up a chance to cause trouble for its own sake. I think you’re jealous, Jim.” Moran tapped him in the chest gleefully.

“Now hang on a damn second,” John struggled to his feet, “You work for _him?_ ”

“Yeah. But you really are an alright kisser for your first time, so uh, no hard feelings?”

John took a deep breath. “You drugged me with something.”

“Oh Dr Watson, your continued denial is charming. Take it back to Sherlock.”

“You’re just gonna let me go?”

Jim turned on him, eyes huge and threatening. “If you’re still here in five seconds, I might change my mind about it.”

“Uh, alright.” John hurried away.

 

“So,” Seb smirked, “You’re fine with it.”

Jim grabbed his jaw in one hand. “Don’t. Start.”

“You _like_ like me.”

“No I don’t, I just didn’t want him pawing all over you. How would you wash off the smell?”

Sebastian’s smile grew. “You want me aaaaaall to yourself.”

Jim kissed him, cutting off the taunt. He was so forceful Sebastian had to fight for breath, hands on the smaller man’s shoulders to hold him off.

“Right,” Jim whispered, “Now we’re going home, and we’ll never speak about this again.”

“Really? Cos I think Dr Watson might mention it.”

“What, that he unknowingly made out with the bad guy? I doubt he’ll say much. Hail us a cab, Sebby.”

“Yessir.”


End file.
